


You're the Rock, I'm the Paper, Who Needs Scissors?

by Camelittle



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Established Relationship, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-24 16:15:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13217424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Camelittle/pseuds/Camelittle
Summary: In which Merlin and Arthur let fate decide… who should top.





	You're the Rock, I'm the Paper, Who Needs Scissors?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Malu_3 (Grainne)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grainne/gifts).



> For Malu, who won my crossword competition, and besides which deserves all the nice things. I'm so sorry, dear Malu. I had intended to create a 500-word drabble, but somehow nearly 4000 words of pwp happened instead. You know, sometimes I just wonder if my muse has got a hormonal problem. *Frowns at it*.
> 
> With huge thanks to the amazing beta-ing and comma-wrangling skills of the fabulous Pelydryn. Any remaining mistakes are all mine. Especially mis-placed commas ;)

Merlin’s head was buzzing and his feet dragged wearily on the rain-slicked stone steps as he trudged into the citadel. High overhead, a solitary bird flapped heavily through the drizzle, its wings slow and laden with melancholy. Merlin knew how it felt. It had been that kind of day. A soggy kind of pall hung over the town, the product of days and days of endless spring rains.

Sometimes, in the springtime, a fragrant freshness would sweep through the citadel, redolent of pine and the promise of flowers. But not today. Today the winter clung on. Tattered remnants of last year’s leaves still hung bleak and lifeless, upon trees with branches like splayed fingers pleading to the heavens for relief from the relentless rain. The dense air was thick with woodsmoke, mixed with the usual grime and stench of horses that lingered and permeated everything until Merlin’s clothes and hair were saturated with it.

But the weather had brought with it worse things than the caked mud that weighed on his boots. The ague that had swept through the town was swift and indiscriminate, although thankfully not deadly. Normally productive townsfolk languished in their beds, feverish and in pain. It was hard for folks to put food on the table when they could barely lift their heads from their pillows. Merlin himself was only recently recovered, and he still fatigued easily, especially on days like this, when he was rushed off his feet, fetching and carrying for the sick. He and Gaius did what they could, dispensing potions and mopping fevered brows to bring whatever comfort they could.

Meanwhile, Arthur, thankfully, had brushed the ailment off with his usual panache, and brought succour to his people in his own way, visiting sick rooms, with his golden hair and infectious laughter and sheer presence that somehow together were more effective at healing than any potion, however magical. Merlin supposed that he should find it annoying, if he could only dredge up the energy.

But then, Merlin of all people was far from immune to Arthur’s abundant charms. By the time he reached Arthur’s chambers he could barely place one foot in front of the other, but nevertheless his mind was filled with anticipation—of a bath, perhaps, to wash away the grime and the smoke. And then maybe Arthur would bend him over his bed and fuck him into oblivion, chasing away all Merlin’s pain and misery and grinding heartache with all the strength and power invested in his skillfully wielded cock.

Arthur being absent on his arrival, Merlin set about preparing the room for this eagerly awaited scenario with a renewed vigour. First he summoned a bathtub.

“Fill up,” he said, waving his hand. He couldn’t really even be bothered to make the effort to use the old language for the spell, any more; he had long ago learned that the mumbo jumbo was mostly for show, anyway. When there was no audience he often did magic with just a thought or idle gesture.

Taking a moment to check that the waters were actually rising, he watched with approval as they began to steam gently. Once the bathwater was at the right level, he stopped it from filling, with another wave of his hand. Then he sat back upon Arthur’s favourite chair and leant his head against the chair back. As an afterthought he waggled his fingers to summon some dried rose petals and lavender from Gaius’s workshop and scattered them across the gently simmering waters.

Arthur still wasn’t back. Folding his arms and legs, Merlin closed his eyes for just a moment, to gather his thoughts.

“Wake up, you lazy lubber!” Arthur’s cheery voice was so loud in Merlin’s ear that he actually fell off the chair and landed in a scowling heap. “You’re snoring like a hog!”

“Lazy yourself!” Groaning, Merlin pushed himself onto his side and folded his legs under himself to stumble back onto his feet. “Where have you been? The water’s gone all cold. And the fire’s going low... Honestly! You don’t half drag your feet sometimes.” Still grumbling, he passed his hand over the surface of the bathwater until tendrils of steam began to rise again.

“I have been working my knights, of course,” said Arthur, loftily. He prised his boots off and tossed them across the room where they landed with a thunk, no doubt depositing mud or something even more unspeakable upon the flags for someone (Merlin) to clean up later. Clotpole. “Unlike some people lollygagging around! Honestly, Merlin, what do I pay you for?”

“Pay me?” Merlin snorted. “That’ll be the day!”

“My, who’s being Mr Grumpypants today?” Bending to kiss the frown from Merlin’s forehead, Arthur pulled off his gauntlets, carelessly tossing them onto the carefully arranged counterpane. “Come on, get me out of this armour and then wash me off. I’m pooped. Oh, and then we can have mind-altering magical sex. I’ve thought about it, and I have decided to let you go on top, today.”

“What?” Aghast, Merlin tried to bury his horror even as he worked on the straps of Arthur’s pauldron.

“Come on, Merlin, do keep up, I’ve topped the last four times. It’s your turn.” With a smug grin, Arthur held out both arms for Merlin to work on his vambraces. 

Wrinkling his nose against the fragrance emanating from Arthur's armour, Merlin set to work freeing him from its grasp. 

“That’s because you’re Mr Bossypants!” he said, rolling his eyes. “You love topping! You love nothing more than ordering me around and then spearing me with your equally bossy cock. Not that I’m complaining, mind…”

“ _Please let me top, Arthur,_ ” interrupted Arthur in a wheedling voice that Merlin knew was meant to represent Merlin’s voice, and it didn’t sound anything like him, but still he knew. “ _You’ve got such a lovely bottom, Arthur. Just let me fuck you with my magical cock! Please, please, please! I'll fuck you till you see stars, Arthur!_ ” His voice returned to normal. “Well, now’s your chance. I’m buggered, metaphorically, so you might as well do the whole literal buggery thing." 

"Hey! You're quoting me out of context!" said Merlin. And yes, all right, so maybe last night Merlin had begged Arthur to let him have a go at that luscious, peachy bum, which sometimes, just sometimes, he liked to nip with his teeth so that Arthur yelped out loud. After all, those gorgeous bum cheeks did go a beautiful shade of pink when nipped. But that had been then, and today, well, today he didn't have the mental or emotional energy left in him to top.

"It will be an honour for you," growled Arthur, shrugging off his stinking gambeson. "You haven’t fucked me properly for days. Anyway I don’t see why I should have to do all the work all the time.”

“Work? Like you even know the meaning of the word!” Merlin let out a strangled groan of frustration and dropped Arthur’s undergarments into a heap on the rug. “You’re so annoying, sometimes.”

“You love me really.”

And by all the Gods, Merlin did. For now, at last, Arthur was fully naked. As he turned to walk across to the bath, Merlin stopped for a moment, hands on hips, eyeing this vision with appreciation. The wide planes of Arthur's chest sloped neatly towards his thickly muscled waist and hips. The efficient movements of Arthur's body highlighted the way his bulging thighs flared from the perfect rounds of his rump. A wonder of nature, indeed. 

"Stop ogling and get on with my bath, you indolent peasant." Betraying none of the weariness that he claimed to feel, Arthur hopped nimbly into the bath and sank beneath the water with a sigh of contentment. “Oh, God, that’s amazing. Heat the water up a bit with your magic, there’s a good fellow, and then you can wash my back.”

 _“Wash my back, Merlin!”_ mimicked Merlin, in a sing-song voice, even as he reached for the scrubbing brush and attacked Arthur’s golden skin with vigorous strokes that made Arthur groan out loud. “ _Suck my cock, Merlin. Fuck me, Merlin._ God, you’re so demanding, you know that! I don’t know why I put up with you.”

“Don’t be such a baby,” drawled Arthur, his shoulders relaxing under Merlin’s ministrations. “All I hear is moan, moan, moan! But we both know that you can’t wait to shove your magic wand in my crystal cave!”

And normally, of course, that would be true. But today was different. Today, Merlin had spent seven hours doing heavy emotional labour with sick and exhausted townsfolk, had been run ragged fetching new supplies for Gaius’s potion stores, and could barely summon the energy to rub a flannel along his lover’s back, let alone raise the enthusiasm required to give the King’s arse, however peachy, a good seeing to.

“You love my bum.” Arthur’s lips started to protrude in the makings of a pout, and his eyes widened into that puppy-dog look that he’d perfected over their years of courtship. “Don’t you?”

A less observant servant-cum-sorcerer-cum-lover would not have noticed the tiny quaver in Arthur’s voice. But Merlin’s abundant experience in all things Arthur over the years had lent him a finely tuned understanding of every nuance of Arthur’s mood. Damn Arthur and his insecurities and that soft-eyed look that always cut straight to Merlin’s heart. Damn him!

“Always, sire,” said Merlin hastily. “It’s the finest arse in all the five kingdoms and I can’t wait to bury my cock in it. Sire.”

“That’s the ticket.” Arthur gave his own cock a few experimental tugs until the half-hard outline of his cockhead bobbed and poked out above the waterline. He regarded Merlin from beneath lazy, heavy-lidded eyes.

Merlin licked his lips. Arthur did look so very enticing, all rosy-skinned and pink cheeked, his golden hair dark with water and plastered around his chiselled jaw.

He would have to summon some eagerness from somewhere. Arthur loved to be fucked. Merlin knew he did. Normally he took great pleasure in drawing it out until Arthur, slack-jawed and drooling, groaned into his pillow as he spent his seed all over the counterpane. But it always took so damned long to draw an orgasm out of Arthur when he bottomed, and Merlin really didn’t have the energy to be inventive today. His shoulders drooped and he dropped the washcloth into the water, disguising a yawn.

When he looked up again, a concerned pair of blue eyes were staring at him.

“I’m not a complete monster, you know,” said Arthur, softly. “You do look tired. Perhaps we should skip the sex tonight.” He stood up, water cascading down wide, golden shoulders, and passed a hand over his wet hair. He looked so perfect, godlike, a vision of majesty that Merlin knew he was privileged to see. So close, so intimate—and his alone to bring pleasure.

“No, no! I’m fine, really, full of beans, me.” Skip sex altogether? That was the last thing Merlin wanted. But even so, his eyelids were drooping and as Arthur stepped, dripping, out of the bath, Merlin found his gaze, instead of being fixed upon his gloriously naked king, was dropping to eye the temptingly warm-looking waters.

“Go on,” said Arthur, nodding at the bath. “I’ll get myself dry.”

“Thank you, Sire.” Merlin started to shuck off his clothes.

“It’s nothing.” Arthur grinned. “My motives are purely selfish. You stink like the back end of my horse.”

“Oh, that’s very nice.” Merlin replied, struggling out of his braes and wincing as the cold air hit his naked flesh. “Very romantic.”

“And anyway, you’ll be right as rain after your bath,” Arthur added, making no attempt to hide the appreciative way that he was ogling the lines of Merlin’s bare body. “And then you can fulfil your duty and bugger me senseless.”

“Of course, sire.” Merlin lowered himself into the water with a groan of pleasure. “It’ll be my pleasure and my honour. Gods. That’s so good.”

He lay his head back upon the bath rim for a moment or two, wondering idly whether it would be possible to place a cushion upon it. Or maybe design a bath with a built in cushion. It would be so delightful to drift off, with the heat from the water seeping into his bones… come to think of it, a cushion for his bum would be nice as well…

“Don’t fall asleep,” said Arthur, sharply, making him jump. “You’ve got work to do. Come on, Merlin, warm yourself up. Get polishing that sword, as it were.”

Flicking his eyes open and letting them linger on Arthur’s pinking flesh, on Arthur’s hand as he stroked it gently up his hardening shaft, Merlin felt a spark of arousal curling deep in his groin.

Such a perfect cock Arthur had. Plump and long, it sprang from a dense mat of coarse golden hair, proud and elegant. How Merlin longed to feel it buried deep inside him, splitting him in two, pounding into him until all thoughts of illness and duty vanished and there was just the solid, physical inevitability of their frantic coupling. Feeling its rhythmic slide deep, deep within. Look at it, just look at it, dark pink and firm with arousal. Oh, Gods, how he wanted it.

“By all the saints,” he whispered, licking at his lips and cupping his own balls under the water. His own cock was finally springing to life, now, in response to the movement of Arthur’s hand and his own fervent imaginings. He wrapped fingers slick with soap around its shaft and started to move his hand.

“About time, Merlin,” purred Arthur, stepping over the towel towards him until his jutting cock abutted Merlin’s cheek, in a clear invitation. “Time you served your king, you have been neglecting me, and I want my due.”

Such temptation was too much for a tired warlock to bear. A hollow emptiness within him ached to be filled

“Just… just fuck me, Arthur?” choked Merlin, imbuing his voice with all the longing that he felt. “Please? I’m still loose from last night. I’m so ready for you.”

“What, again?” Arthur said. “You’re insatiable! When do I get a turn? Can’t you just magic a spare one up, and fuck us both with it?”

“That wouldn’t work!” protested Merlin. “It’s the whole Arthur-ey package I need, all masterly and over-privileged, manhandling me and taking liberties—not just your cock, however… um… delicious it might be!” Which it was, he had to confess, waving around proudly inches from Merlin’s face.

Arthur let out a small, bitten off half gasp. “Suck my cock and I’ll think about it.” He dragged his cock along Merlin’s cheekbone towards the hollow of his mouth.

Lazily, Merlin turned his head and obligingly wrapped his lips and tongue around the insistent, blunt head, suckling gently, tasting the familiar salt-slick diamond drop that had appeared upon its tip. His eyes closed momentarily as he pictured it, glorious and firm, slipping between his buttocks and past his secret furl.

Arthur’s hips began to rock. As Merlin dragged his tongue around the hot furrow beneath Arthur’s foreskin, he could hear every hitch of Arthur’s breath, every suppressed groan.

“Wait,” whispered Arthur. Abruptly, so abruptly that Merlin let out a disappointed sigh, the solid heat of Arthur’s cock withdrew.

Then his hands were under Merlin’s armpits, and Merlin was being hauled out of the water, still damp, achingly hard and full of want.

“Now are you going to fuck me?” said Merlin, with a hopeful quirk of one eyebrow.

“Wanton strumpet,” said Arthur, hoarsely, manhandling Merlin towards the bed.

Yes! Sucking Arthur’s cock always got him worked up. Merlin felt like crowing. Surely, now he would throw Merlin onto the bed and slip his gorgeous, perfect cock between Merlin’s cheeks and...

And nothing. Arthur crawled onto the bed and held out a hand.

“Come on. I’m tired, you’re tired. We can’t _not_ have sex—”

“Agreed,” interrupted Merlin before Arthur could finish his sentence. Abstinence was absolutely not an option.

“—So… why don’t we let fate decide who tops?” Arthur curled his hand into a fist and dipped it, three times. “Rock, paper, scissors?”

“All right then!” Grinning, Merlin slumped down onto the bed next to Arthur, dipping his own fist three times in reply.

Next time, both hands dipped in concert, twice. On the third dip, Arthur’s first two fingers splayed, but Merlin’s remained fisted.

“Stone blunts scissors,” he said, bashing his fist against Arthur’s fingers. “I win. Now fuck me. Hard and fast.”

“Best of three,” said Arthur, frowning. 

“You are such a bad loser.” Their hands dipped again. Merlin’s emerged as a fist again, whereas Arthur’s hand was out flat.

“Paper wraps stone,” said Arthur. His face lit up in glee. “Yes! One all! Next one for the win. I’m going to win! I’m going to win! Because you’re so predictable, Merlin! Magical cock up my arse, here we come!”

Rolling his eyes, because almost more than being fucked, Arthur loved winning, Merlin dipped his hand, twice. While Arthur was distracted by his own cleverness, Merlin closed his eyes, as if in resignation. In reality, though, it was to disguise the way that they flashed while he stopped time for a second, observed Arthur’s move, and countered it.

Arthur gazed, shocked, down at his outstretched hand, as Merlin snipped at it with outstretched forefingers.

“Scissors cut paper,” crowed Merlin. “I win! Two beats one! You top! Come on, oh lord and master. Fuck me until I see stars.”

“Why, you double-crossing magical tease! You cheated!” accused Arthur. “I saw that! Your eyes flashed!”

“What, me?” He slid down off the bed and stood, clicking the fingers of one hand. As he beckoned towards Arthur’s bedside table with one index finger, he was rewarded when an obliging jar of oil, discreetly disguised as a medicine bottle, flew into his waiting hand. Bending forward at the waist over the bed, he waggled his bare bum in the air. “I’m a bad, bad sorcerer. Come on! Punish me! Pump me with that fat cock of yours until I squeal.”

“Minx,” grumbled Arthur, but grabbed the oil out of Merlin’s hand.

A few moments later, Arthur’s plump, slippery cock nudged bluntly at Merlin’s entrance.

Finally! Merlin closed his eyes in satisfaction.

“Gods, you’ve got a magnificent cock, Arthur,” he moaned, slumping forwards onto Arthur’s bed.

Arthur slid inside him, slick and hot and perfect, drew back, and then pushed through again, settling along Merlin's back, gripping Merlin's forearms until he was effectively pinioned.

“It’s a good thing that it turns me on when you cheat, Merlin,” he growled into the nape of Merlin’s neck as he fucked in, hips finding that perfect rhythm that sent Merlin into a growing spiral of arousal. “For that, I’m going to fuck you so hard that you can’t sit down for a week. A _month!_ ”

“It’s not cheating,” Merlin gasped, voice muffled by the cloth of the counterpane. “It’s just giving fate a bit of a nudge.”

“Shut. Up. Merlin!” Punctuating each word with a deep thrust that made Merlin want to howl out in sheer pleasure, Arthur canted his hips, just so.

“Shutting up, Sire.” Overwhelmed, Merlin squeezed his eyelids together with a breathless moan.

This. This was what he had wanted. This was what he had been waiting for! Just to narrow his focus to a single point of sensation, forgetting everything except the bliss that was swelling deep within. It chased every thought from his head, pushing away the world, until all that remained was the two of them, bound by ties of trust and hope and devotion so strong that no-one could disentangle them one from the other. Merlin rode the moment greedily, drinking in the steady almost painful slide of Arthur’s cock, the heavy heat of Arthur’s laboured breaths upon his shoulders. The exertion and the furnace-like warmth of Arthur's working body pulled sweat from his pores. He loved the way that Arthur’s skin buffed against his, the way their sweat made them stick, as if they should forever stay adhered. His jaw slackened and he shuddered. So near!

There was a moment of perfect tension before Arthur’s rhythm faltered and his arms tensed alongside Merlin’s shoulders. And then Merlin crashed, moaning, headlong down the other side of his climax, Arthur following him down in a helpless rush of stuttering hips and muffled curses.

Afterwards they lay in a sort of floppy, bedraggled heap, slack limbs still entwined, bits of crumpled counterpane stuck to random areas of skin, and dozed as their breathing steadied.

“Ugh, I’m disgusting,” said Arthur, after a while. He picked at a bit of fluff that had become glued to a particularly sticky stretch of skin across his hipbone.

“You said it, not me,” Merlin replied, more out of habit than anything else. Actually, this version of Arthur, all rumpled and vulnerable, was one of his favourite versions, one that Merlin treasured above all gold and trinkets and coins, more precious than prestige or the shallow trappings of wealth. But still, the unwritten rules of their relationship, of the lighthearted banter that they used to disguise their deep regard for each other, required him to add, “there’s a perfectly good bath over there. Don’t let me stop you.”

“The water is cold!” Arthur’s breath escaped in a long, heartfelt sigh that bordered on a groan, and he let his head fall heavily onto his pillow. “And truly, I am weary. Clean me up, Merlin, I can’t move.”

It was rare indeed for Arthur to admit weakness. Suddenly concerned, Merlin squinted at Arthur between his lashes. His king did indeed look rather fatigued. Oh, it wasn’t obvious, by any means, but there was a weariness around Arthur’s eyes and a pallor that betrayed a deep, bone-sapping tiredness. This ailment, this illness - it had been hard on them all, even Arthur, even though the pride-driven nincompoop would never willingly show it. And there Merlin had been, all but forcing Arthur to perform strenuous acts. It had been worth it, sure, but it was time to make amends.

“I’m sorry, sire. I have been selfish.” It was a measure of Arthur’s fatigued state that he did not rise to this obvious opportunity to agree and add a pithy insult of his own. Stricken with genuine guilt, Merlin gave his fingers a negligent flick. A clean cloth on the bath edge dipped into the still-warm bathwater and then flew to him, dripping only a little upon the bare flags. “You’re tired, and I forced you into hard labour.”

“You?” Arthur snorted. “As if a twig like you could force _me_ into anything.”

“I’m stronger than I look!” retorted Merlin, with a mock pout to disguise his inner relief at this flash of the prattish Arthur he knew and loved. He grasped the cloth, warming it with a muttered spell so that it was hot enough to give relief without discomfort.

“Tend to me and I’ll forgive you.” Arthur opened one eye. “Plus I expect a long overdue, dutiful and vigorous magical servicing tomorrow. Using, I have to add, your own equipment.”

“Of course, you entitled prat.” Grinning, Merlin applied the warm cloth to the honey-haired skin of Arthur’s chest and thighs with gentle hands, following the cloth’s path with a trail of languid kisses.

“Oh, Gods Merlin. That’s good.” Arthur’s eyelids flickered, and he let out what sounded suspiciously like a whimper. "I do appreciate you, Merlin. And everything you do for me. I want you to know that." 

Gods, it wasn't fair how Arthur could disarm him with just a brief sentence like that.

“Tomorrow.” Merlin slipped the cloth into the crease between Arthur’s solid thighs, taking a moment to appreciate the hard outlines of the muscle that bulged beneath the flesh, silently thanking the fates for allowing him this privilege. “Tomorrow, I’ll bundle you onto the bed, slather you in warm unguents, slip my magical cock up your arse, and fuck you until you forget your own name.”

Arthur chuckled. “Is that a promise? You won’t cheat at paper, rock, scissors to force me to have my wicked way with you instead?”

“Of course not!” Merlin felt an answering grin tug at his mouth. “I’ll um... um… I’ll let you wrap your paper around my magical stone, sire. With no cheating, this time.”

“As innuendos go, that really doesn’t make sense,” murmured Arthur. There was a fond tilt to his mouth as he spoke, even though his eyes were closed. He let out a short, mirthful exhale that made the bed wobble in sympathy. “Idiot.”

Outside the window a stray ray of sunshine broke through a scrap of sodden cloud, alighting on the bright array of Arthur’s hair where it fanned out upon the pillow. Something caught in Merlin’s chest, then, with a painful, swelling warmth that made his eyes prickle. He swallowed, shaking his head.

“Clotpole,” he whispered, sinking back down upon the bed.

  
~END~

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Not my characters, I'm not getting paid.


End file.
